***
PAIGE kept her eyes steady on Mick’s. She wouldn’t look away first. He’d take it as a real sign of weakness, and she knew he already doubted her in every way. She wasn’t totally sure what she’d ever done to him to bring on his irritation. It was as if he’d taken one look at her almost four years ago and decided to hate her, no matter what.
And she didn’t owe him a thing, so why should she have tried to make nice with him?
She didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. Not any longer.
Especially him.
She had more field experience than Mick, at least with the CCU, and no one—no one—was going to doubt that.
“What have we got?” He practically barked the words at Sebastian. It was the way he talked—big, abrupt, brusque, bordering on rude. That was Al’s older brother.
She’d never quite figured him out. His younger sister and older brother were great people, friendly, helpful, fun. She trusted them completely. But not this guy.
Didn’t he eat kittens for breakfast? Sometimes she half thought so.
“Thirteen dead,” Paige said. She’d make it known to him from the very beginning that this was her case. He was just along for the paper trail. “All female, ranging from early teens to late twenties.”
“Cause of death?”
“We won’t know that definitively until Mia and Jules finish.” Policy for the CCU was that c.o.d. was always confirmed, not speculated on. It covered their butts that way.
“Give me an idea of what I’m going to see when I walk in there.” He cut between her and Sebastian. Isolated her from the rest of her team with his brick of a body. She couldn’t help but step back. He just took up so much of her space.
He was taller than Sebastian by an inch or three, and he weighed a ton compared to most of the men she knew. The only one who even came close to him in height was her brother Luc, who topped off near six and a half feet.
Her brother was built lean; this guy definitely wasn’t. Half a granite mountain stood there in front of her, glaring.
How was she supposed to do this? “Blood. And lots of it. And their eyes. Try not to look at their eyes. Or you’ll never forget them. And… they never made it out of their beds, Agent Brockman. This was a slaughter, and they never saw it coming.”
Chapter 2
HE’D seen blood, he’d seen death. Mick had even seen dead kids in Afghanistan and Iraq and a few places he would never think about again.
It never was easy, and he knew it would never get easier. That was part of what he’d signed on for when he’d joined the military right out of high school and gained his degree while enlisted. He’d joined the FBI when he was in his late twenties, and his current position when he was thirty-three.
He had never forgotten the dead he’d seen.
Mick forced himself to breathe through his mouth. Death had a particular smell and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be haunted by it in his dreams.
Daviess was cool and collected at his side. Lorcan was on his left when they entered the old warehouse down in the river district. “Any idea who they are?”
“No IDs on most. The few that had them had multiple each. I’ve forwarded them to Questionable Documents. Payton’s handling the rush for me.”
Mick nodded. The supervisor of the Q.D. department was damned good at her job. “Do we know anything else?”
“Homeless females, reasonably attractive physically. Their clothes aren’t the worst I’ve ever seen. And they seemed cleaner than would be expected.”
“Sex ring?” Just the idea of it disgusted him, but he knew the truth. Sex was a big industry and was estimated to gross at least fourteen billion in the US alone. And young, healthy females were the main product.
He and Daviess’ brother Luc had nearly had their asses blown to hell and back seven months ago when Luc had taken it upon himself to crack a trafficking ring on his own, bypassing legal channels until the last fucking minute.
It was an admirable thing the guy had attempte—but damned stupid in execution.
He knew Luc well enough now to suspect that a reckless streak was imprinted in the Daviess’ genes. Paige was certainly less cautious than she should have been. She’d end up getting someone killed someday.
The building they entered was an old one, but it was in reasonably good shape. “Who owns this place?”
Daviess answered, keeping her body just half a step ahead of his. That grated on him. “Barratt Handley Enterprises. One of my brother’s top competitors. He’s been notified and a representative is on his way down here.”
“Have Compton start on the interviews when he gets here.” He looked at Lorcan. “You sticking around very long?” Everyone knew Lorcan’s wife was due in three days, and it shocked the hell out of Mick to see the guy still hanging around. Guy was nuts about his wife. “I think we can cover things here.”
Lorcan stared at him for a moment. Mick liked the other guy and respected his work a great deal. But right now, Mick needed him out of the way. “Go.”
“See that you don’t leave each other raw before this case is solved. PAVAD needs you both whole. And on good terms.”
“I don’t have a problem with Agent Brockman, Seb. He’s the one who has a problem with me.”
***
DID she really think that? Hell, he supposed it was true. He didn’t trust Paige Daviess as part of the CCU. There was too much… fire… in her for the FBI. At least long term. Fire meant passion. Passion meant mistakes.
He knew that down to the bottom of his soul. He’d learned it the hard way. Passion and fire meant trouble.
And trouble had a way of finding Paige.
Mick scratched the scars on his chest absently, hand slipping beneath the dark suit he wore. They’d both nearly died the last time trouble had found the two of them. An old friend of Mick’s family had turned out to be a serial killer targeting Mick’s brother.
And he’d wanted Paige.
The guy had drugged her and then kidnapped her, along with Mick’s sister-in-law Jules, and nearly killed them all. Mick’s brother Mal, Sebastian Lorcan, and the rest of PAVAD cavalry came rushing in just in time to save them—barely. Paige and Jules—and Mick—had been hospitalized.
Mick had almost bled to death in the snow-covered driveway of his home.
That s.o.b. had wanted Paige and Jules as his own personal collection.
Mick understood it in the fact that they were both beautiful and engaging women. But Stubborn and Hard-headed were their nicknames.
Lorcan spoke to the forensics team inside. Lorcan’s ex-wife Agent Cody was heading up the scene. All evidence would coordinate through her and her partner Dr. Reynolds.
With thirteen victims there would be a lot to process, and it would be time-consuming. It would take several days to get all the information back.
“What’s your first impression of these girls?” He might not like Paige’s style, but he wouldn’t deny that he respected her mind. And her skills. Up to a point.
He didn’t doubt her competency, just her judgment at times. Reckless, she was so damned reckless that it scared him.
He told himself it was because she was his sister’s partner, and responsible for his sister’s safety every day.
But he knew the truth.
She acted too damned much like another woman he’d worked with. And lost.
Mara had had big dark eyes and a sweet mouth too. She’d had zest and zeal and heart driving her, just like Paige. And look what it had gotten her.
There had only been three people at her funeral. Him and her brother and father. He’d not been able to answer their questions about why she’d made the choices she had. The accusations in their eyes would haunt him forever.
“Thirteen girls and women, clean, healthy, not malnourished. A variety of ethnicities. Fingernails were buffed. These girls were someone’s possessions. And he—or she—took good care of them.”
He nodded. The girls—and women’s—conditions told them
quite a lot. If they had been low on resources such as food or clothing, it would have painted a different picture. “But how do we find out who?”
“By asking the right kind of questions.” She stopped walking and turned toward him. Natural lighting from one of the large windows on the outer wall of the warehouse haloed around her, drawing eyes her way. She could draw attention even dressed in a serviceable black pantsuit and leather boots. Black made the contrast between her pale skin and dark hair and eyes even more noticeable. Her skin was so flawless it looked almost unreal. Any other woman and he would have chalked it up to some seriously expensive cosmetics. But Paige Daviess wore minimal makeup. “We’d probably better just get this out of the way.”
He tensed. “Oh?”
“Don’t get in my way on this, Mick. I get that Director Dennis needs someone higher up the chain than me. But you’re a paper-pusher and an axe grinder. You are not CCU.”
“And you are.” He was quicker to anger with her than anyone. Mick forced himself not to allow the anger to take over this time. “Listen up, Daviess, and listen close.” He crowded her space as a bit of that anger leaked through. He trapped her between him and the concrete support post behind her. “This is my case. You’ll follow my lead. No matter what. Or I’ll sideline that scrawny ass of yours for the entirety of this case. Maybe even sidelined permanently.”
***
PAIGE wanted to scream. Why did she always feel that way with him? He was one of the few men she had to look up at. At almost six feet tall she was usually able to meet guys at eye level. But he was more than six inches taller than she was, and she hated that she had to tilt her chin to keep her eyes on his.
The ass had trapped her against the concrete post deliberately. Just to prove his was bigger.
Mick was good at intimidation; he’d tried it with her several times before. She slowly stepped around him, purposely brushing her front against him. He stiffened. “Thirteen dead, Agent Brockman. Dependent on us, God help them, to find the answers. This is what I do. Because places like this, girls like these? I know them. Better than someone like you ever will. So don’t you dare stand there and think for a minute that this is something you know more about than me.”
Paige shoved past him and walked away for a moment. She studied the environment. The warehouse was nothing different than any of the others she’d been in. Lived in. She’d slept in hundreds of similar places. More than she would ever be able to remember—or count. She looked for Cody, the senior forensic tech, and her friend. She needed a friendly face, if just for a moment.
To remind her that she was not that girl anymore. She threw one more look over her shoulder. “Go home, Beaver Cleaver. You’re not wanted or needed here.”
She wouldn’t let him—anyone—see how she was shaking inside. How harsh words with him always ate at her after it happened.
Why? Why did he always do that to her? What had she ever done to him?
Not that it mattered. The only thing she needed to deal with was the fact that someone—possibly more than one someone—had brutally killed more than a dozen women.
Without hesitation.
Paige wasn’t stopping until they had that killer.
Mick Brockman wasn’t going to get in the way of that.
----------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading this excerpt from Revealing, Mick and Paige’s story. It is available everywhere, and is part of the PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense series.
For more great books in this series, check out Calle’s website at www.callejbrookes.com or find her at your favorite retailer. All of the PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense novels and novellas are stand alones with no cliff-hangers.
You can reach Calle at her website and sign up for her newsletter: www.callejbrookes.com
At her email [email protected]
And her facebook: www.facebook.com/Calle-J-Brookes
Also, be sure to pick up Watching, the first book in Calle’s PAVAD: FBI series for free on all retailers!
Calle J. Brookes is the author of the PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense, PAVAD: FBI Case Files, Finley Creek Romantic Suspense, Dardanos Paranormal Romance, Dardanos: The Laquazzeana, and Dardanos; The Adrastos series’.
A television crime drama addict she spends her free time watching reruns, reading, sewing, drawing or painting. Her favorite shows are Criminal Minds, the Law & Orders, the NCIS series' and the CSI series'. She abhors Lifetime movies or anything too mushy or melodramatic.
C.J. has been an avid romance reader--especially romantic suspense--since the age of eleven when her grandmother gave her that first romance novel to read.
C.J. has been with her husband Cody for eleven years, and they have one school-aged daughter.
They live and work (and homeschool) together in beautiful southern Indiana, with their three dogs, two sea monkeys, and one pet garden snail named Edmund Junior Junior the Third.
Acknowledgments -
The acknowledgment section is always the hardest for me to write. I never want to leave someone out. And I’m sure I always do. There so much that goes into producing a book and all the behind-the-scenes work it’s impossible to catch everyone.
First up, my husband who makes sure that I eat every day because he’s the only one who knows how to use the stove. He’s also taken over all of my mailing so if you’ve received a package from me in the last few months you have him to thank.
Jamie F. for running my reader group and always being excited to read the next book even when I tell her it’s rubbish. And of course Trish, who not only reads the rubbish as well, but talks me off the ledge every time I threatened to delete it all and look for jobs on craigslist. She deserves a big check. Also, my editor Amanda, for making sure I get all my Maine facts straight for Pelican Bay. And Shambles, who read an early copy and will eventually edit these acknowledgments.
The wonderful ladies of Chatzy who keep me on task… or derail me completely so I spend all afternoon reading things online. You never know which way it will go on any given day, but I wouldn’t change it. Especially the hours spent watching FB live videos with Emily R - even if it requires me to close all my critical tabs.
And thanks to all the wonderful women in my reader group. Hearing from you that you liked a story, or seeing your excitement of a new story, is at times the only thing to keep me going.
Until the next time - thank you for reading.
Megan
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